The Shrimp Basket
“The Shrimp Basket”
by Positive Mark
What warms your belly like a basket of shrimp?
Not only did you eat, but you went first class.
Sometimes the blessings go over our heads,
like the mind boggling dreams that we see in our beds.
To live in a place where no bombs are dropping is starting to feel like a novelty.
Adhering to xenophobic codes of life can result in the wrong type of polity.
So here’s where we stand.
We’re watching the news.
Two types of long beards are at war.
The prize of the battle’s a long swath of dirt that nobody should want anymore.
The mothers are crying. Their children are dying. Humanity’s bearing the scar.
The whole time, I’m chomping on baskets of shrimp, drinking cocktails in raucous sports bars.
A strange sort of guilt to inflict on one’s self,
but it’s realer than real all the same.
The nerve of me out here enjoying my life, while the Middle East goes up in flames.
Far be it for me to go question a faith, and believers should remain fastidious.
But it strikes me as strange, those who cripple and maim, are the ones who are staunchly religious.
The people who live in the holiest lands are the ones who are boiling in cauldrons.
Suppose we all chimed with “The Fire Next Time” by the the philosopher named James Baldwin.
I’ll sit back and watch, while they tally the dead. On a good day, I might shed a tear.
I just hope that the liquid that spills from my face doesn’t get in my shrimp
or my beer.
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